


The Boy, His Snake, and His Love

by khryseraph



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:41:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28379424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/khryseraph/pseuds/khryseraph
Summary: Based on this following prompt by Sparkly_Chaotic_Neutral_Aesthetic:Harry never goes to Hogwarts. vernon is given a promotion that moves the family to America and idk how magic works but let's say that hogwarts doesn't really know where he is anymore because America is Ilvermorny jurisdiction. voldy comes back in 4th year and everyone is panicking and then Le Gasp some random wizard in America finds harry who uses the last name evans or dursley due to passport confusion when they had to fly to America.- they take him to Hogwarts in a weird sequence of events where he isn't being told enough information and is lowkey convinced he's being kidnapped by a cult- he has a pet snake that he can talk to and he chalks that up to all the other weird shit he can do- he's very profecient at wandless magic because he never did the magic school thing so he substitutes all that knowledge with matilda by road dahl and superhero comics- he's sorted into Slytherin because he is rather jaded- he's a biracial bisexual orphan with a British accent that got raised in 80s American suburbs who has spooky abilities sooooo
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 14
Kudos: 67





	1. Before I Met You: Life in America

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sparkly_Chaotic_Neutral_Aesthetic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sparkly_Chaotic_Neutral_Aesthetic/gifts).



> So, a couple notes. 
> 
> I am not multiracial, but I will do my best to capture the mindset of someone who is due to the request on the original prompt. 
> 
> Please look at my post - "Looking for Prompts - Range of Ships" if you are interested in suggesting other stories for me write.
> 
> I will do my best to write this story, but I am an American. Expect colors rather than colours and cigarettes rather than that dreadful word (dreadful to American gays at least).
> 
> Thanks loves!

Harry Evans was born an odd boy. As far as he knew, he was always the odd one out in his family. He was tasked with making the food, doing the laundry, cleaning the house. It wasn’t an easy life, but it was all he knew.

When Uncle Vernon was promoted, given a position as a General Executive of a new branch of his company in America, Harry dreaded leaving his home country but outwardly questioned nothing. After all, the policy his family held for him was “be neither seen nor heard.” And that’s what he did, good boy that he was - he was neither seen nor heard. Practically, for all intents and purposes, the boy was invisible.

His life in America wasn’t any grander than that in Britain. He was still tasked with the cooking, the laundry, and the cleaning. His cousin Dudley was still treated as the next Messiah. Nothing beyond the expectations Harry had set for himself. 

Really, the only time Harry had seen a reason for independence was the time he was brought to the pet store. Dudley was being treated to any pet of his choosing for his thirteenth birthday, a privilege Harry had never known. He had been brought along simply because Petunia didn’t trust the strange boy to be alone at the house by himself. 

After all, by this point there had been plenty of strange occurrences surrounding Harry - teleportations to roofs, vanishing of bullies, starting of fires - all unintentional, of course, but nothing that Aunt Petunia would believe. In her eyes, Harry was a miscreant who loved causing trouble - always had been, and always would be. The fact that this trouble seemed impossible for such a young boy was never questioned nor mentioned in the Dursley household.

So there Harry was, standing on his lonesome while Dudley fawned over the next kitten or puppy he would raise in abuse. He stood near the tanks holding snakes, looking into the eyes of one of its denizens, when he heard a voice.

_“Another human here to stare at me? Figures.”_

Harry looked around for the voice, before settling his gaze back onto the python.

“Did… Was that you?”

The snake stared back at Harry, transfixed.

_“Impossible. Thousands have walked by this tank. Truly, you cannot hear me?”_

Harry stared at the snake, mind running wild.

“I… I think I can. What’s your name? I'm Harry.”

The snake looked at him, narrowing its eyes.

_“This one has no name. It has seen no use for such a useless thing.”_

Harry thought about this.

“Well, if I’m gonna talk to you, it would definitely be easier to know what to call you.”

The snake thought on this for a moment.

_“Call me… James. That is a name you know well enough, yes?”_

Harry looked puzzled.

“I’ve never known anyone with that name.” 

He thought on it more, but coming up with nobody he knew by that name.

“It doesn’t matter. It’s… nice… to talk to you, James. I hope I’m not bugging you.”

_“Not at all. You’re the first human I have ever spoken to.”_

Harry laughed.

“Lucky me.”

He took a moment to think before asking his next question.

“So, James… Do you _like_ living in this store?”

James hissed loudly.

_“Definitely not, Harry. This is a prison designed to drain the life of its inhabitants.”_

Harry nodded, thinking.

“I’ve… I’ve always wanted a pet. James, would you like to come home with me? Leave the prison?”

James took a moment to think on this. 

_“Take me.”_

And with that, Harry was decided. With more confidence than he’d ever expressed in his previous thirteen years, he approached his Aunt Petunia and demanded that she adopt the snake James for him.

Petunia, of course, was disgusted by the idea of bringing such a creature home. But at the threat that Harry would cease all duties and vanish from all his chores, she caved and allowed him to bring the snake home on the provision that it never leave his room. 

And that’s how Harry adopted James into his family. His first, true, family. 

It wasn’t long before Harry was using his strange powers to summon dead rodents for James to feed on. After all, it’s not like Petunia or Vernon would buy near-dead rodents to feed James. 

Harry became happier, more involved in his schooling. 

It wasn’t until he was a Sophomore in high school that he was cornered by thugs.

He was never especially quiet about his sexuality - after all, for a boy with no experience with friends or caring relatives, what did it matter to him that he told people who he truly loved? He never knew that loving anyone other than women was taboo.

So it was a shocker when he was cornered by five older boys, boys who had heard that he was - in their words - a faggot, who needed to be taught a lesson.

When Harry was cornered, he closed his eyes in fear and brought his hands in front of him. You could imagine his surprise when each of the boys suddenly started spurting blood from their broken noses and ran away screaming.

At that exact moment, eight hours ahead of his time, Sybill Trelawney sat up straight in her bed, having experienced a vision of a power surge in America.

“He has arisen.”


	2. Before I Met You: A Midnight Visit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry plays with some of his abilities as he waits to turn 15.

Harry sat anxiously on the floor of his room. Luckily for him, America didn’t really have cupboards under stairs. Even though his room was still the smallest in the two-story house, it was still, at least, a room.

James sat curled around his shoulders, dozing peacefully. It was 11:55PM, July 30th. Harry was about to turn 15 years old. 

He knew better than to ask the Dursleys for any presents or recognition of the day. It’s not like they could give him what he truly wanted anyway - a new life. He would turn 15 and go to sleep, only to wake six hours later to begin breakfast before his uncle left for work. 

He heard a small _crack_ outside of his house. He stood up and glanced out the window, watching a person in a heavy, billowing coat walking past the house. They brought out what must’ve been a lighter, as it lit up brightly at the tip. They waved it around, glancing at his house before snuffing out the light. The figure continued on.

Harry shrugged and glanced at his alarm clock. 11:58PM. It was almost time.

He nudged James’ head, waking the snake up.

_“Is it time?”_

Harry nodded.

“Nearly.”

_“Another year, another disappointment.”_

Harry thought over this, then shrugged.

“This can’t last forever. Once I turn 18, we’ll get out of here.”

He looked at the mirror, pondering his face. 

The lightning-shaped scar on his forehead stood out in bright contrast to his dark skin, usually hidden under a mop of black crinkled hair. He pushed his hair aside to stare at it. His aunt and uncle didn’t permit any questions about it, or about the weird things he could do.

One of life’s mysteries, he supposed.

He glanced over at the clock just as it struck midnight.

He was 15.

Yay.

He sat on the edge of his bed, bringing out a small box. He had shoplifted the cigarettes from a small gas station and vanished himself away before the attendant could even see he was in the store. This was a couple months ago, when he was still experimenting with his newfound teleportation abilities. Now he could teleport fairly easily, the weird pulling sensation in his stomach had long since numbed so that he no longer felt nauseous when it happened.

He swiped his finger through the air, cutting the packaging and bringing out one of the long, white cigarettes. He tossed the rest on the bed and stuck it in his mouth, pressing a finger to the end of it to light it.

_“Those will kill you, you know.”_

Harry chuckled.

“I’m not planning on making it a habit. Just a small gift to myself for making it through another year.”

He sucked air through the cigarette, choking instantly on the noxious fumes.

It was as he was summoning a cup from the downstairs kitchen cupboard so that he could fill it with water (an ability he learned at 12 years old) when he heard the _knock knock knock_ on the front door.

As he took another draw of his cigarette, followed by more water, he heard a rumble in the room next door. His uncle would handle this strange midnight visitor.

A minute later, three more knocks, louder and more insistent, resonated through the house.

“Get the damn door, boy!”

Evidently his uncle would _not_ handle this strange midnight visitor. Whatever.

Harry vanished the cigarette, deciding it wasn’t for him. He waved his hand over the package of the remaining death sticks, turning it into a new coaster for his room. This was also a new trick he had recently picked up on, being able to turn things into other stuff. He found this out when he accidentally turned a stubborn shoelace into wood and snapped it.

He stood up, wanting to answer the door before another knock came and his uncle took a hand to him. He set James down on the bed. The snake looked up at him warily.

_“I don’t think you should answer the door.”_

Harry scoffed.

“It’ll be fine. Besides, if they’re threatening I can just set them on fire. Or lift them up into the air and lob them away, like that crazy lady at the supermarket the other day.”

_“I still say you should’ve wiped her memory.”_

Harry chuckled.

“Nobody believed her when she said a teenager had thrown her halfway down the freezer aisle with his mind. Besides, you know I don’t have good control over that ability yet. I might have accidentally erased a lot more than just a couple minutes.”

James shook his head, curling in on himself. Harry knew he’d have to move James off the bed when he came back up, but figured that the snake deserved a couple minutes on the most comfortable surface in the room.

He opened his door and quietly shut it behind him. He used his quieting ability so that his uncle wouldn’t hear the stairs creak as he walked down them. He walked up to the front door, stopped the quieting, and opened it.


	3. Before I Met You: A Strange Conversation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry talks to a creepy old man on his doorstep. Revelations ensue.

Harry’s eyes widened in surprise. Standing before him was a very old man with a very long white beard. His face was wrinkled, and sitting on the edge of his crooked (clearly once broken) nose sat a small pair of reading glasses. He had a small cap on, and was wearing billowing red robes. He was a strange man to show up on your doorstep in the middle of the night.

Harry’s guard was immediately up. He was prepared to lob fire at the intruder, or blast him with enough water that he was thrown backwards, should the man make any sudden moves towards Harry.

“Hello, Harry.”

Harry’s stomach clenched.

“You know my name.” It wasn’t a question.

The man’s eyes twinkled.

“That I do. I’ve been looking for you for some time.”

Creeper.

“That’s… nice, creepy old man on my doorstep. Just so you know, I’m not here alone. My aunt and uncle are right upstairs.”

The old man chuckled lightly.

“Yes, I’m sure they are. Vernon and Petunia.”

Harry blanched.

“...right. So, do you need something? Are you here to kill us or something? Cause I promise that won’t work out in your favor.”

The man’s eyes looked… saddened, almost.

“No, dear boy, I am not here to harm you or your loved ones.”

Loved ones. That’s a stretch.

“So, then why are you here? In the middle of the night?”

The man nodded, validating his questions. He seemed very pompous.

“I am here for you, my boy. I am here to take you home.”

Harry stepped back, feeling his hand start to heat up. He was a moment away from blasting a stream of fire at the weirdo. 

“Yeah, you’re not taking me anywhere. Thanks, but no thanks. Take care.”

With that, he closed the door. He heard thudding come down the stairs. His uncle, looking very grumpy, followed by his aunt.

“What’s going on, then?”

Harry shrugged, keeping his eyes to the floor.

“It’s some old guy who knows our names. He said he was here to ‘take me home.’”

He glanced up at his aunt and uncle to gauge their reactions to his words. They were both pale, staring at him in shock.

His Aunt Petunia was the first to respond.

“Impossible. He shouldn’t have been able to find us! Vernon!”

His uncle shook his head slightly, moving to the closet and pulling out the shotgun he kept hidden there.

“Get out of the way, boy!”

He gruffly shoved Harry aside and opened the door, pointing the shotgun right at the old man, who for his part seemed completely unfazed by the deadly weapon pointed at him.

“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll leave us alone! We want nothing to do with  _ your kind _ !”

The old man smiled softly.

“Vernon. As charming as ever. May I ask why you didn’t inform me of your move to America?”

Uncle Vernon snarled.

“I didn’t  _ tell you _ because we don’t  _ need you _ . Harry is perfectly fine here! He doesn’t need to be a part of  _ your _ world. It’s what’s best for him!”

The old man chuckled darkly.

“Ah,  _ what’s best for him _ indeed. He belongs in his world, his parent’s world. You have no right to keep him here. And put that down.”

Petunia stepped forward, placing a hand on the gun to lower it for Vernon, whose face was purpling.

“Harry does not need to be a  _ freak _ like the rest of you. He will do well enough here, in America. The distance will keep him safe.”

The man had no hesitation in his next sentence.

“Ah, my dear Petunia,  _ magic _ will keep him safe.” He turned towards Harry. "You're a wizard, Harry."

Everything seemed to freeze for Harry.

Magic.

Not super powers. Not random unknown abilities.

_ Magic. _

Harry coughed uncomfortably. 

“Well… uh… I can already  _ do _ that. Magic.”

The old man kept his face passive, but Harry could tell he was holding back surprise. He grew up reading facial expressions to know when to avoid his uncle, aunt, or cousin.

“What do you mean, my dear boy?”

Harry stared at him for a moment before bringing up his hand. He closed it briefly, and when it opened there was a fire dancing in his palm. 

Aunt Petunia screeched. Uncle Vernon shoved her back and followed right after. The old man stared in shock, his mouth open slightly as he watched the fire in Harry’s palm.

“I… see.”

He turned to Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia.

“Harry will most certainly be coming with me. Neither you nor he are safe while he is here.”

He turned towards Harry.

“Now, Harry, go pack your belongings. Bring it all. You’re coming to Hogwarts.”


	4. Before I Met You: Whisked Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry is taken to what he supposes is his new home... a giant, creepy castle in the middle of nowhere. Lovely.

Harry sat on his bed, stunned.

_ “I told you you shouldn’t have answered the door.” _

Harry turned to James, a questioning look in his eyes.

“So what, you can predict the future now? Do I have a psychic snake as well as  _ magic _ ?”

The snake made a sound that could resemble a scoff.

_ “Please. Like anyone knocking on the door in the middle of the night is going to have  _ **_good_ ** _ news.” _

Harry nodded slowly.

“Fair enough.”

With that, he stood up and started picking up his stuff, throwing it into a rucksack that he called his. He didn’t truly have any “personal” memorabilia, as everything was either a hand-me-down from Dudley or stolen, which was useful but not exactly personal.

Soon he was finished, whisking James up to his shoulder.

“Well… ready for a new life, James?”

_ “What a birthday present, indeed. Let’s go.” _

And with that, Harry descended the stairs with James wrapped around his shoulders, filthy rucksack pulled onto his back.

The old man’s eyes narrowed upon seeing James.

“I’m afraid our school doesn’t allow-”

Harry beat him to the punch.

“Either he comes with me or I stay here with him. I’m not leaving him.”

The old man took a moment to think this over, very hesitantly conceding after the thinking.

“Very well.”

He stepped back onto the steps leading into the house and held out his arm.

“Grab my arm, hold your breath, and we’ll be off.”

Harry stepped out before turning back to his Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon.

“...thanks for feeding me, I guess.”

And with that, he turned to grab the arm without looking back.

…

A moment later, they were teleporting. It was the same feeling as Harry was used to at this point.

Then, they were standing in front of a huge castle. As it was still the middle of the night, the whole thing was dark except for lights in some windows here and there. 

The old man looked towards Harry.

“Do you feel any nausea?”

Harry looked at him, slightly perplexed. While James was groaning a little on his shoulders, he was fine.

“No, I’ve had plenty of practice with teleporting. I don’t get nauseous any more.”

The old man’s eyes grew wide at this, but the mask quickly fell over his face again.

“I see. Let’s go inside, shall we? There are some people I want you to meet.”

Harry watched him stride off towards the main entrance to the castle, debating whether he wanted to follow or not. In the end, he decided it was cold as balls and didn’t want to stay out here for the night. If he didn’t like it here, he could always teleport back to Vernon and Petunia’s house.

He walked up the path, following the old man’s billowing robes. They reached the entrance to the castle quickly, where the old man opened the humongous doors with a wave of his hand.

The inside of the castle was even more medieval - and impressive, Harry thought privately - than the outside. Torch sconces, suits of armor, and complex paintings lined the wall.

“Um… dude?”

The old man turned towards Harry.

“Yes, Harry?”

“Are the paintings moving?”

He turned to look where Harry was, a painting of a woman actively brushing her hair under water. It was gorgeous, with her silky golden hair flowing in a halo around her head.

“Yes, Harry. Paintings and pictures move in the wizarding world.”

Harry nodded slowly.

“Gotcha.”

James was staring at the picture too.

_ “She is pretty.” _

Harry chuckled. “You know I have a thing for blondes.”

The old man stopped in his tracks, turning back to Harry.

“Did you just…” 

Harry looked at him. 

“Talk to James? Yeah. What of it? Can’t you do that?”

The old man slowly shook his head.

“I would recommend you keep that to yourself, Harry. Not many wizards or witches have that particular ability.” He took a moment to think. “Also, why did you name your snake James?”

Harry shrugged.

“He said it was a name I was familiar with, even though I don’t know anyone by that name. He liked it, so that’s what we named him.”

The old man stared at Harry.

“Did your aunt and uncle really tell you nothing of your parents?”

Harry looked down, stomach dropping.

“They… weren’t something I was allowed to ask about.”

The old man nodded slowly.

“There’s a lot to discuss with you, Harry. James was your father’s name.”

Harry sat there for a moment, stunned.

How in the hell had he managed to coincidentally name his snake after his father?

Well, it’s not like  _ he _ picked out the name, James had done that himself. But still.

_ “Let’s keep going, Harry. I want to find out more about what this place is. Maybe I can do some hunting of my own in that forest outside.” _

That snapped Harry out of his reverie and nodded. He continued walking, the old man quickly taking the lead again.

Soon they came upon a statue of a large eagle, wings curled protectively around itself.

“Licorice whips.”

The statue started turning and rising, with steps following it leading upwards. 

The old man stepped on the tallest step, Harry following behind him. When the statue stopped rising, they were staring at a short corridor with a wooden door leading into a new room.

“Now, Harry, there are members of a group who have worked especially hard to recover you from the Muggle world behind this door, some of which could be considered your family. I ask you to keep an open mind for the discussion that is about to happen.”

And with that, he turned towards the door and opened it.


	5. Before I Met You: Greeting the Order

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry learns the names of his protectors, finds some new family, and settles down at Grimmauld Place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! I had a burst of inspiration today and wrote way more than I normally do. I don't want to get your hopes up that I'll always write this much.
> 
> But anyway, I LOVE comments. They're basically heroine for me. So please, please let me know if you like it! Even if you don't, I love constructive criticism! Thanks loves. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this especially-long chapter.

The door opened into a crowded room that looked like a home office would look like at a magic castle.

In the room were so many people that Harry didn’t have time to really get a good look at any one of them before he was whisked into a chair. The whole room had fallen silent when the door opened, with most of the inhabitants staring at Harry in awe. One fellow with a sallow face and greasy black hair’s expression was closer to resentment than awe, however.

The old man made his way behind a large desk and sat down, sighing. He straightened his robes and looked up at Harry, a small smile decorating his face.

“Harry Potter, this is the Order of the Phoenix. We are a-”

“Evans.” The sallow-faced man’s expression hardened at Harry’s correction.

“Excuse me?”

Harry swallowed. 

“My name is Harry Evans, not Harry ‘Potter.’ I’ve never been called that before.”

A man with brown hair and kind, sad eyes spoke.

“Your father’s name was James Potter. It’s the name you were born with.”

Harry turned to consider him.

“Maybe. But my aunt said that Evans was my mother’s name, and that’s the only name she would ever call me by. Even says so on my passport.”

A red-haired man’s eyes lit up.    
“A ‘passport,’ hm? What is the purpose of that?”

An aging, red-haired witch next to him slapped his arm.

“ _ Not now, Arthur. _ ”

He looked sheepish.

“Sorry, Molly.”

Harry turned back to the old man, who looked slightly amused at the conversation.

“As I was saying, Harry Evans, we are members of the Order of the Phoenix. We are dedicated to saving the wizarding world from those with ill intent. Most notably, we fight against the followers of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, the man who murdered your parents fourteen years ago… Lord Voldemort.”

Several quiet gasps went up around the room. 

Harry looked at him in confusion.

“They weren’t murdered. They died in a car crash.”

A loud scoff sounded from the back of the room. A man, giant in stature, was practically hidden amongst the shadows. 

“A car crash, kill Lily and James Potter? Absolute rubbish.”

The old man turned towards the giant, a placating look on his face.

“Please, Hagrid.”

The giant nodded, settling back into his corner again. The man turned back to Harry.

“No, Harry, they did not die in a car crash. They were murdered by Voldemort for being staunch supporters of the light.”

Harry’s stomach settled. He felt queasy.

“Gotcha. So, why didn’t he kill me too?”

If the room could have possibly gotten more silent, it would have. 

“Well, Harry, he tried. He cast a killing curse at you, leaving a scar on your forehead. It rebounded and destroyed his body instead. For reasons the wizarding world is still unsure of, you survived where no others had. In our world, you are legendary. You are the Boy Who Lived, the Chosen One. The one destined to kill Voldemort for good.”

Harry sighed and stroked James’ head. He slithered down to Harry’s lap to make it easier. Quite a few people in the room eyed the snake warily.

“You said, ‘destined to kill him  _ for good _ .’ But you said his body was destroyed. Isn’t he dead already?”

A few tsks went around the room.

“No, Harry. From methods we are unaware of, Voldemort arose from the dead last year. At least, that is what intelligence reports state.”

Several people eyed the greasy-haired man.

“At least, that’s what  _ he _ says.” This came from a mustachioed man who was glaring daggers.

“It is true,  _ dog _ . I was in the graveyard, watching as the Dark Lord was resurrected. And if you still doubt me, how could you explain the reactivation of the Mark?” The man pulled up his left sleeve to reveal a dark tattoo, which was a skull with a snake swirling around in his mouth. James hissed at it.

The old man sighed. “Please put that away, Severus. Harry doesn’t need to-”

The man threw his sleeve down. “ _ Harry _ doesn’t need to be kept from the truth. The Dark Lord has returned, and this  _ boy _ is his target. If Harry falls, so do we all.” With that, he swirled, billowing his black cloak, and stormed out of the room.

Harry’s mouth went dry. “He… wants me?”

The old man turned towards Harry.

“Yes, dear boy. You are the only one to have ever survived a direct attack from him. For this, and reasons we are yet to discover, he is focused on capturing and killing you. Therefore, you will always be protected by members of the Order, no matter where you are.”

Harry slouched in his chair. He wished he kept his cigarettes. Maybe he could change the coaster back.

“Could I… could I get a drink?”

The old man nodded. “Certainly. Dobby?”

A short, stout little creature with big ears, huge eyes, and a long nose appeared with a  _ crack _ next to the old man. 

“Yes, Professor Dumbledore, sir?”

“Could you please get Mr. Evans a drink please? Perhaps pumpkin juice?”

The creature - Dobby - nodded vigorously and disappeared with a  _ pop _ . Seconds later, he was back in existence next to the old man. Dumbledore, evidently. What a strange name.

He held a silver platter with a clear, crystal goblet on it. Inside was an orange drink.

“Which one is Mr. Evans, Headmaster sir?”

Harry raised his hand and stretched for the goblet, making it soar through the air and land in his grasp. Not a drop was spilled.

He closed his eyes as he drank deeply, appreciating the sweet, sugary taste of the drink. 

When he opened his eyes, he found everyone in the room staring at him in shock.

“Is… Is something the matter? Aren’t you all wizards and witches?”

Dumbledore cleared his throat.

“Yes, well, about that. Harry, most wizards and witches - and by most, I mean everyone in Britain, at least, and certainly everyone in this room - require a wand and incantations to use magic.”

Harry’s eyebrows furrowed.

“A wand? Incantations? Why?” Once he finished the drink, he simply tossed it to the side and vanished it. A new round of gasps arose.

“It’s simply how magic works, dear boy. At least, that’s how we use it.”

A woman with a scottish accent and small glasses spoke reverently.

“He can already use summoning magic? Vanishing magic?”

Dumbledore nodded.

“I have also seen him conjure fire, and he has suggested that he is skilled with apparition too.”

Mumbles broke out across the room. 

Harry looked at Dumbledore in confusion.

“Apparition?”

Dumbledore nodded.

“You called it ‘teleportation.’”

Harry hummed. 

“Want me to show you?”

Dumbledore shook his head.

“No, Harry, you can’t apparate within-”

However, Harry was already gone. He was instantly standing besides Dumbledore, looking pleased. James was in his hands, quivering slightly.

Shocked gasps went up around the room. 

“But that’s… that’s impossible, Albus!” The bespectacled woman claimed, closing her hands around each other tightly.

Dumbledore looked up at Harry, eyes widened in amazement.

“It appears we have a lot to learn about you, Mr. Evans. Please take your seat, again.”

Harry sauntered over to his seat, walking past the brown-haired man, the black-haired man who had called out “Severus” earlier, and the two redheads. 

He sat down, looking at everyone else.

“So, um… who are the rest of you?”

The redheads recovered first. The man spoke.

“My name is Arthur Weasley, and this is my wife, Molly. We have a son your age who attends Hogwarts.”

Harry nodded. “And what is that? Hogwarts?”

Molly spoke up. “It’s the school you’re in. Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry.”

Harry hummed in understanding. He looked towards the brown-haired man and the mustachioed man. “Who are you two?”

They still looked slightly stunned, the black-haired man more so than the brown-haired one. The brown-haired one spoke up.

“My name is Remus Lupin and this is Sirius Black. We were both good friends of your parents’. I am the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor here at Hogwarts, and Sirius is-”

Harry’s eyes widened at the first mention of Sirius’ name.

“-a murderer! I’ve seen him on TV! Didn’t he escape prison a couple years ago?” He scooted back in his seat, considering setting the man on fire.

This seemed to knock Sirius out of his trance.

“No, Harry, no. I was framed for the murders by an… old acquaintance of ours. However, lucky me, I am still a fugitive from the law.” He looked at Harry sadly and fondly. Harry settled slightly in his seat.

“I… see. Who else are the rest of you?”

The rest of the people in the room introduced themselves.

Rubeus Hagrid, the groundskeeper for Hogwarts.

Minerva McGonagall, the professor who would be responsible for Harry’s education.

Nymphadora Tonks, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and Alastor Moody, two current and one ex “aurors” of the Ministry of Magic.

And Severus Snape, the greasy-haired man who stormed out of the room earlier. He was supposedly a double agent working for Dumbledore, but there were more than a few grumbles at hearing Dumbledore’s explanation of this.

“And I, dear boy, am Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts and leader of the Order of the Phoenix. There are other members who are not here tonight due to current missions, but this group of people will be centrally responsible for protecting you.”

Alastor Moody grumbled.

“Well, this is all fine and dandy, but I have some business to attend to.” And with that, he stepped towards the large fireplace in the office, grabbed a handful of green powder, and tossed it into the fire. It flared green and he shouted out an address before stepping into the flames.

“Yes, well, we had best be leaving too, Albus. I’ll see you soon.”

Kingsley Shacklebolt and Nymphadora Tonks followed Moody through the flames.

“Now then, there’s just the matter of where you will stay during your nights before the term begins, Harry. I believe Molly has-”

Sirius spoke up.

“-Molly has offered, but Harry ought to stay with us. We have plenty of space, and he is my… well…”

Molly scoffed.

“Don’t even start, Sirius. The boy needs a good, stable home to stay in.”

Sirius’ eyes darkened.

“And what makes  _ our _ home not good or stable enough for him, hm?”

Remus placed a hand on Sirius’ shoulder, placating him. Harry could tell the men were closer than friends. Curious.

“Now, I’m sure she didn’t mean-”

“I know what she  _ meant, _ Rem.”

Molly tsked and waved a hand dismissively. 

“I just mean that he’ll be with children his own age to be around. He can stay in Ron’s room, I’m sure they’ll make quick friends.”

Harry didn’t get the best feeling from her explanation. He felt, as he assumed Sirius did as well, that there was perhaps a bit more to her hesitation to letting him stay with Remus and Sirius than simply letting him be around others his own age.

He turned to Sirius.

“What are you? To me, I mean? You said you’re my, what?”

Sirius blanched slightly, looking nervous.

“Well, Harry… When your parents were alive, they made me… they made me your Godfather.”

Harry nodded, his eyebrows furrowing. 

“But then, why didn’t you take custody of me after they died? Why was I left with my aunt and uncle?”

A look of shame crossed Sirius’ face.

“Harry… When I heard what happened to your parents, I knew who betrayed them. It was the only person who could’ve betrayed them. Peter Pettigrew. I confronted him, with the intent of taking him into custody, but things got… out of control. He exploded the street, killing several Muggles - non-wizarding folk - and, I thought, killing himself. I was sent to prison for all their deaths, at least slightly satisfied thinking that he was dead for his betrayal. We didn’t find out until two years ago that he was still alive, which was when I broke out to hunt him down. Unfortunately, he escaped from me, and… here we are.”

Harry looked down at James, nodding. Then he looked up at Dumbledore.

“You said that you’ve been looking for me for  _ years _ . Why?”

Dumbledore cleared his throat. 

“Well, Harry, the intention was always for you to attend Hogwarts when you turned eleven, just like all wizards and witches do at that age. However, by the time your birthday came around, your uncle had picked up and moved your family to America without informing us. Being that America is in another school’s jurisdiction, we had no idea that’s where he had taken you. And since they didn’t know you moved there, Ilvermony didn’t invite you to attend their school either.”

Harry nodded sullenly. He could’ve left the Dursleys years ago, been involved in a world of magic and, maybe, love. Instead, he suffered under their harsh treatment and never knew of his heritage.

“Fine. I’ve made up my mind. I’ll go to stay with Remus and Sirius while I am caught up before this next school year.”

Molly made a sound of protest.

“Harry, please, you don’t know everything about-”

Sirius interrupted her loudly.

“Quiet, woman! Harry need not know everything there is to know about our personal lives!”

She tsked at him.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it, Sirius.” She turned to Harry. “Harry, Remus is… he’s a  _ werewolf. _ Once a month, on the full moon, he turns and becomes  _ incredibly _ dangerous. It won’t be safe for you to stay there.”

Remus’ face darkened.

“Molly, you know as well as I do that I take Severus’ Wolfsbane Potion religiously around that time every month. Harry will be in no danger so long as I have that.”

She flicked her eyes over to him before turning to Dumbledore.

“Albus, please-”

He raised a hand, silencing her.

“Molly, Harry has made his decision. He will be in no excessive danger while staying at Grimmauld Place so long as Remus takes the potion, and besides all this Sirius  _ does _ have a rightful claim to Harry as his Godfather. He will stay there unless he decides otherwise.”

Molly looked displeased at this, clearly trying to think of another argument to get her way before huffing.

“Fine. Let’s go, Arthur.”

She turned to the fireplace, lit it green with the powder, and called out an address before stepping through.

“I’m sorry for her behavior, gentlemen. I promise she only has Harry’s best interests at heart.” 

With that, Arthur stepped through the fire, leaving Dumbledore, Remus, Sirius, Hagrid, and Minerva there with Harry.

Dumbledore turned to Harry.

“Now then, since you can apparently apparate onto Hogwarts grounds, I will expect you in this office tomorrow morning at ten AM to begin your lessons with Professor McGonagall. Sleep well, Harry.”

Harry followed Remus and Sirius through the fire to Grimmauld Place, taking James and his backpack with him. 

They stepped through the fire, landing in a nicely decorated living room with a loveseat and plushy armchair. There was also a connected kitchen with a large dining table and new appliances.

“Your house is really nice.”

Sirius chuckled darkly.

“You wouldn’t believe the amount of work it took to get it to this point. But, since I’m stuck here most of the time, I had plenty of time on my hands to get it done.”

Harry nodded, figuring he must stay inside due to the whole “being a criminal” thing.

“Um…” 

Remus and Sirius turned towards Harry.

“Yes, Harry?” Remus asked.

“Well… nevermind. We can talk about it later. I’m tired, where can I sleep?”

Remus nodded and gestured to follow him. He led Harry up two flights of stairs before opening a door into a room decorated with red-and-gold banners with lions featured on them. Everything in the room followed this coloring scheme.

“What’s with the lions?”

Remus chuckled.

“Those are the symbols for Gryffindor house. It’s the house that Sirius, James, Lily, and I were all sorted into at Hogwarts. I wouldn’t be surprised if you followed in your parents’ footsteps with the sorting, but we can change the decor based upon whichever house you are sorted into.” He looked at James. “What’s its name?”

Harry looked at him a little sheepishly. 

“His name is James.”

Remus looked slightly taken aback for a second before schooling his looks. 

“I see. Did you know…?”

Harry shook his head.

“Pure coincidence.”

Remus nodded.

“Well, this room is yours, and not just for the summer. You are free to stay here whenever you like. After all, Sirius is currently designating you the heir to Grimmauld Place as we speak.” 

Harry blanched slightly at that.

“The… heir? You mean I… own a house?”

Remus chuckled. 

“Well, you  _ will _ . Tomorrow, after Minerva introduces you to your lessons, we will go to Diagon Alley and do some supply shopping for you.”

Harry nodded.

“Will Sirius be able to join us? Since he’s… you know…” 

Remus nodded.

“He has his own ways of blending in in public. Just… be prepared for what may happen whenever we speak to another witch or wizard. Dumbledore wasn’t joking when he said your story is legendary. Every child raised since that fateful night has grown up hearing stories of your defeat of You-Know-Who, and adults everywhere praised his defeat exuberantly. We may be stopped here or there, but so long as your scar stays mostly out of sight, hopefully people won’t put two and two together too easily.”

Harry hummed in response. He set James down on the floor and his bag on a desk.

“There’s a magical animals shop in Diagon Alley where we can get some supplies for… James tomorrow.”

“Thank you Remus. I’ll probably go to bed now.”

Remus nodded.

“The bathroom is to your left, it’s all yours. It’s… it’s good to have you home, Harry.”

Harry gave him a small smile and closed the door behind the man.

He slid down the wall and sighed deeply. This was all so much to take in.

It wasn’t long before the sobs started. He made sure to quiet the room so that Remus and Sirius wouldn’t hear him.

He eventually fell into a fitful sleep with James curled up next to him.


	6. Before I Met You: First Lessons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry takes his first lessons with McGonagall, Snape, and Remus.

Just as Dumbledore predicted, Harry was quite easily able to teleport - _apparate_ , whatever - into his office the next morning. 

Harry had woken up at 6AM, despite going to bed at nearly 1:30, being used to doing so to prep Uncle Vernon’s breakfast. When he went downstairs and began pulling out pans to prep eggs and bacon, a very angry creature (same as that Dobby creature, but much, _much_ older and uglier) ran at him and started hitting him with a wooden spoon screaming about the half-blood trying to steal his job. Harry was quick to put the pans down and back away from the stove, the menacing creature staring daggers at him.

Remus and Sirius, decked out in bathrobes with pajamas underneath, quickly came down the stairs to find this scene.

“Kreacher, what are you doing?!” Sirius yelled at him, waving his wand to knock the wooden spoon out of Kreacher’s hand.

“Master Black, this _half-blood_ was attempting to _cook breakfast_. That is Kreacher’s job!” The creature - or Kreacher? - crossed its arms. Sirius scowled at him. 

“Kreacher, if Harry wishes to cook for himself then you will stay out of his way!” Kreacher attempted to protest, but Remus held up a hand, silencing him.

“Harry, may I ask why you were trying to cook breakfast this early?” He had slight bags under his eyes, his face looking a little more gaunt than normal. He was obviously tired after the long night last night, and being woken up at this time didn’t do him any favors.

Harry shuffled his feet, embarrassed at all the racket caused.

“It’s what I’m supposed to do. Get up, make breakfast. Then I can start my day.”

Sirius’ anger faded at these words. 

“Oh, _Harry._ You don’t need to cook us breakfast. Kreacher is our house elf, he takes care of the cooking. You are, of course, _free to cook_ if you like…” He shot a glare at Kreacher, daring him to question the decision. “...but there is absolutely no expectation upon you to do that.”

After that and some apologies from Harry for the racket, Sirius and Remus went back to bed while Kreacher prepared Harry breakfast. He just sat and watched the house elf as he magically whipped up eggs, bacon, toast, and orange juice for Harry to snack on. 

It was, all in all, a very strange experience for Harry. Especially since he was normally expected to eat last, waiting for Dudley to wake up and have his many portions of it. Usually there wasn’t an abundance left for Harry, usually just enough to keep the growling in his stomach to a minimum.

Harry sat down in a chair at 9:55AM, looking around at the empty office. Remus and Sirius had woken up just in time to see him off and wish him luck, and he responded with a wave before turning in on himself.

The office itself was very orderly, and much more spacious than it had been when there were so many people in it earlier that morning. Harry looked at all the trinkets on the walls, examining them in detail. His eye caught one in particular, a three-dimensional golden structure in a cabinet. It was a pyramid with a rod piercing the middle of it. In the middle of the rod was a sphere.

As Harry was looking at it, Professor McGonagall strode into the office. 

“Ah, Mister Potter-” Seeing Harry’s slight look of distress, she corrected herself. “-I mean, Mister Evans. If you will follow me.” 

He soothed at her use of his name and he stood to follow her. He felt so out of place in the castle, being dressed in oversized jeans and tee shirt while following a full-grown witch in robes and a pointed hat. It was quite a trek to make it to what seemed to be her classroom - the castle was very large.

Upon reaching her class, she directed him to sit in the only chair-and-desk combo available while she sat in her chair behind the large desk at the front of the classroom.

“Now then, Mister Evans. I will be your Transfiguration teacher during the standard school year. However, before this new year begins I will attempt to catch you up on all essential subjects - Transfigurations, Charms, and History of Magic - excluding Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts. After my lessons, you are to make your way to the dungeons for Potions lessons with Professor Snape. You will partake in private Defense lessons with Professor Lupin on his own schedule. Have I made myself clear?”

Harry nodded at her. She was a very stern woman, who clearly got straight to the point. 

“Do you have any questions?”

Harry nodded again. She waved her hand, permitting him to ask them.

“Yeah, so… what’s Transfiguration?”

Her eyes widened slightly before she regained her composure.

“Yes, it was to be expected that you are completely unfamiliar with our way of life and school subjects. My apologies. The study of Transfigurations is, quite simply, the study of turning one object into another. For instance…” 

She brought out a goblet, which was silver, and waved a complicated set of movements over it with her wand while uttering words under her breath. She finally tapped it, turning the silver goblet into a small, stone statue of a cat.

Harry gaped at it, awed.

“Wow. That’s pretty fucking awesome, Ms. McGonagall.”

She shot her gaze over to him.

“I will not tolerate that kind of language in my classroom, Mister Evans. And it is _Professor_ McGonagall.”

Harry stared at her, slightly dumbfounded, but eventually nodded and closed his mouth. She nodded in return, satisfied.

“Well then. Let’s see what you can do. How about you turn this needle into a match?” She walked over to his desk and placed a lone silver needle on it.

He looked at it for a second. She looked up to his eyes.

“My apologies, Mister Evans. Have you received your wand yet?” He looked at her.

“Um, no, Professor. But I don’t need it.” He waved his hand over the needle. When it fully passed over and returned to view, there was a matchstick sitting on the table. The professor stared at it in awe. 

“Well, well, Mister Evans. Let’s take things up a notch or two, shall we?”

She spent the whole of the afternoon testing his magical capabilities. From turning mice into pillows to spurting water from his hands to even being able to turn decidedly just the tip of his nose invisible, Harry aced all of her tests. By the time mid-afternoon came around, Professor McGonagall had a very impressed look upon her gaze. 

“You are doing exceptionally well, Mister Evans. Despite your lack of use of incantations, or wandwork at all, you seem to be adept in magic even fourth years have struggled with. We will spend the rest of the practical work this summer focused on covering each spell individually that fifth years are expected to know, though I expect you to make short work of this curriculum. As for theoretical work, I would rather focus on the History of Magic material than on the theory behind wandwork and incantations, as I’m not sure they would provide any use to you. Besides, wandwork and incantation theory are not tested in either OWLs or NEWTs, so you will have no issues on that front. Now, you are to make your way to the dungeons for your first Potions lesson with Professor Snape. Understood?”

“Yes, Professor.”

Harry was positively beaming after his first lesson with Professor McGonagall. However, that all took a dark turn once he entered the dungeons with Snape. 

The entire lesson was punishing and, in Harry’s opinion, useless. He was given a textbook and told to craft a Calming Drought by the professor. While there was the small mercy of all of the ingredients being laid out on the table for Harry, Snape did nothing else to aid him in his venture.

“Um… Professor?”

Snape lazily looked up from his newspaper at Harry.

“Yes, Potter?”

Harry grimaced again. He’d reminded Snape of his proper last name numerous times during the lesson, but the professor hadn’t used it once.

“Well, this book says to stir my potion five times counterclockwise with my wand.”

The professor’s eyes bore into Harry’s.

“...And?” He drawled out the “a,” making him sound somewhat like an animal in a zoo.

“And, professor, I do not _have_ a wand.”

Snape stared at Harry still, seemingly unperturbed.

“Perhaps, Mister Potter, you can turn the potion with your finger. Since your hands seem to be so adept at performing magic that a wand is _normally_ required for.” With that, Snape went back to his paper.

Harry sighed. If today was any indicator, these lessons would not be working out in his favor.

The Calming Drought he ended up with really looked more like a Death Drought, in Harry’s opinion. When Snape came around to inspect his potion, the man smirked.

“Well, well. It appears the _mystical Mister Potter_ can’t do _everything_. What a pity.”

While Harry wanted to yell at the man, maybe set just his cloak on fire a little, he managed to restrain himself. He still had the majority of an afternoon to look forward to with Remus and Sirius that even this stupid man’s judgement couldn’t spoil.

“Since you seem to lack even the smallest bit of talent for potions, I expect you to start from the beginning. Craft me a list of every single potion a Hogwarts student ought to be expected to be able to brew by their fifth year and why they should be able to craft it. Anything less than two parchments long is too short. You are excused.”

He waved his wand and vanished Harry’s potion, leaving the boy to storm off in anger.

Well, he didn’t really _storm off_ so much as slam Snape’s door and immediately apparate back to Grimmauld Place. He _cracked_ right into the kitchen, startling Sirius who was hard at work over the stove.

“Ah! Harry! I wasn’t expecting you back until…” He waved his wand in the air, performing a charm to tell him the time.

“Ah. Now. Yes. Well, apologies. I’m finishing up the curry now. Once we eat, we can pop on over to Diagon Alley. Remus should be up in his study if you’d like to go work on your Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons? Or, you could simply sit here and watch me cook. Your choice.”

Sirius turned back to the stove to stir the curry.

Harry looked at him curiously.

“I thought Kreacher did the cooking?” 

Sirius chuckled lightly.

“Yes, he does tend to do it. But when I’m feeling especially anxious I like to break out a dish or two I specialize at.”

Harry had the decency to not ask why Sirius was anxious, assuming it was him in the first place, and gave a small chuckle. He decided to go upstairs and see what Remus was doing.

He walked up to the room that he assumed was Remus’ study, as it was the only room on the second floor whose door was closed, excluding Harry’s own room. He listened at the door for a second before knocking.

“Come in!”

Harry opened the door to find Remus scrawling some notes with a quill on a parchment.

“Harry! Hello! I was just talking with Minerva about how your lessons went today. Apparently, she was very impressed with your skill.”

Harry nodded, a pleased smile crossing his face before darkening slightly.

“I’d imagine Snape didn’t give you the same call.”

Remus’ look dampened a little.

“Ah. Did the lesson not go well?”

Harry shook his head.

“No. I’m not sure what he expected, especially since the Calming Drought required the use of a wand to stir it and, as I’m sure you know, I _have_ no wand yet.”

Remus shook his head slowly.

“Yes, I expected Severus might be somewhat… difficult for you to get along with. He and your father were always at odds with each other in school.”

Harry shrugged. Why did he have to get treated so shittily because of stuff his father did? It made no sense to him. Remus crossed his hands.

“Regardless, were you looking to get in some Defense work before Sirius finished up lunch?”

Harry brightened up again, nodding.

“Yeah. I really enjoyed the practical stuff I did with Professor McGonagall, and I was hoping you could show me some more stuff. She didn’t want to do _anything_ that was even _remotely_ related to combat, and I wanted to see if I could do this shielding stuff she mentioned.”

Remus smirked.

“Well, why don’t we give it a shot? What, ho, Harry! _Incendio!_ ”

Harry smiled and waved his right hand, summoning a shield to protect himself. Unlike the standard wizard’s shield, which might appear in a circular shape large enough to protect his body, Harry’s shield spread from his hand to both walls, the floor, and the roof, creating an impenetrable barrier of magic. Remus’ eyes lit up in wonder as his _Incendio_ fizzled against Harry’s magic.

“I was definitely pulling my punches there, Harry, but I’ll be damned! I’ve never seen a shield manifest over such a large area! Try casting some fire at me so that I might display what a standard shield looks like.”

Harry did so, blasting a small stream of fire at the wizard. 

Remus shouted “ _Protego!_ ” and the standard, circular shield appeared to block and dissipate all of Harry’s fire.

Harry nodded enthusiastically.

“Do… do you know why my shield is so different from yours?”

Remus thought on this for a second.

“I’m certainly not an expert at your magic, Harry, but I would guess it is a twofold reason. First, I have no doubt that your magic is substantially stronger than any witch or wizard’s I’ve ever encountered, perhaps excluding Dumbledore’s. Second, it could be how you visualize it. Most witches and wizards are taught how each spell works from a young age, knowing its form and limitations. Since you grew up learning these spells on your own in the Muggle world, occasionally out of true need, perhaps you simply ignore these forms and limitations and use them in the form that best befits your need. Again, I’m only guessing here, but I would stake money on something like that being the reason why not only your magic looks different from most others’, but also why you are able to do it so effectively without a wand or incantations.”

Harry sat raptured, listening to Remus’ possible explanation. He definitely took note that Remus was just guessing, but it made a lot of sense to Harry. He wondered if he could teach his way of using magic to others, but put that thought aside for now. Now was the time to learn, the time to embroil himself in the world he never knew existed and, maybe later, he could explore what his magic truly meant to him.

He didn’t get nearly enough time practicing trading spells off with Remus before Sirius called up that lunch was ready, but he was definitely starved.

Now if only someone told him what exactly Diagon Alley was.


	7. First Meeting: A Trip to Diagon Alley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry gets some shopping done in Diagon Alley, meeting a handsome boy in a robe shop.

There were two distinct _cracks_ in the secluded alleyway of Diagon Alley. Remus had Side-Alonged Harry and Sirius went on his own. The minute Sirius’ stomach settled, he crouched to the ground and began to morph into his animorphmagus form.

Harry watched this in fascination.

“That’s fucking _awesome_ , Remus! Can any wizard do that?”

Remus glanced at Harry disapprovingly, but chose not to be the one responsible for Harry’s proper use of language. He’d leave that to Minerva.

“Not exactly, Harry. Being able to turn into an animorphmagus is a highly complicated and highly _regulated_ bit of magic.”

Harry looked at Sirius questioningly, who now took the form of a large black dog. Definitely not a creature you’d want to run into an alleyway if he weren’t your Godfather.

“But, if it’s regulated, then why doesn’t the Ministry of Magic know about Sirius’ form?”

Remus put a sly smile on his face.

“Well, it’s a bit of a long story. He and your dad both had unregistered animorphmagus forms in order to keep me company when I turned at the full moon during our Hogwarts days.”

Harry nodded in awe.

“That’s so cool.”

He looked around the alley they were in. It was damp and filthy.

“Is this… Diagon Alley?”

Sirius and Remus both barked out a laugh, one more animalistic than the other.

“No, Harry, this is definitely _not_ Diagon Alley. We are at a registered apparition point in Muggle London. This alley has been charmed to keep Muggle attention focused away from it so that we can enter the Leaky Cauldron discreetly. That’s where we’ll enter Diagon Alley.”

While somewhere with the name “the Leaky Cauldron” didn’t sound very hospitable, Harry figured he’d give it a shot before making any judgements. After all, a place called “Hogwarts” ended up being a castle full of magic, so what frame of reference did he have for this world?

They made their way out onto the street and walked down a short distance. They stopped outside of a run-down bar with a rusting “Leaky Cauldron” sign hanging in front of it. 

“Um… this place is a dump, Remus.”

Sirius gave a short bark, which Harry suspected was a laugh.

“Not to worry, Harry. Charms conceal its true visage.”

With that, he walked in the front door. Harry and Sirius followed.

The bar was, indeed, not run down as Harry had thought. It was somewhat quaint and quiet, but Harry suspected that might be due to it being the middle of the afternoon, post-lunch rush. There were a few witches off in the corner and what he suspected to be a goblin at the counter. An old man behind the counter greeted Remus before his eyes shifted to Harry and narrowed.

Harry concentrated on the man and whispered under his breath, “ _Look. Away._ ”

And so the man did, going back to his business.

Professor McGonagall had covered the basics behind the three Unforgivable Curses, which actually was what gave Harry the idea for this particular power. He had tried it on her, telling her to hand him a quill so he could write down the names of certain spells. She hadn’t seemed to remember the command had been given nor that she had followed it, so Harry deemed this spell to be a very worthwhile one. He wasn’t sure how powerful it was or how physical the commands had to be - for instance, could he tell Snape to treat him like any other student? 

However, he suspected that if it indeed worked that this would be suspicious to the others, so Harry refrained from trying to change something so core to Snape’s belief.

Harry figured there must be an easier way of protecting his privacy without commanding every person who got near him to ignore him. That’s when he got an idea.

Remus had said that people would only truly be able to identify him by his scar. Well, what if he somehow transfigured his scar into disappearing, or cloaking it to make it invisible?

He decided that, instead of trying to change his physical body, he would try and make the scar unnoticable. Professor McGonagall had mentioned Notice-Me-Not charms, but didn’t go over them in greater detail since they were work for older students. 

Harry touched his hand to the scar and traced his finger along the scar, willing it to now be unnoticable. 

Once he felt he was done, he turned to Remus just as they were entering a back alley.

“Remus?”

Remus looked at him.

“Yes, Harry?”  
“Can you describe my scar to me?”

Remus thought this was a curious request but complied.

“Well, it’s… It’s… My apologies, Harry. What were we talking about?”

Harry jumped with joy on the inside.

“Brilliant! I mean, nothing. _Forget. It._ ”

Remus nodded absentmindedly and went back towards walking at a brick wall. He brought his wand out and tapped a few select bricks. Once the last was tapped, the wall started turning in on itself, the bricks folding away, revealing a large, bright-looking alleyway.

“Is this Diagon Alley?”

“That it is, Harry.”

Harry looked around in awe at all of the different shops. 

There was a supply shop for something called “Quidditch,” an ice-cream shop, even a large, bright-and-purple joke store. Pretty much every magical thing Harry could think of.

Remus cleared his throat.

“Now then, Harry. I will go draw some money from Gringotts. Why don’t you and Padfoot go to Madam Malkin’s and get fitted for some robes? I’ll meet you there and pay for the selection.”

Harry nodded, excited that he was the subject of a veritable shopping spree for the first time in his life.

He and Sirius - Remus told him to call him Padfoot in public - walked on over the Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions. Sirius laid down out front, dozing slightly under the shade. Harry walked into the store.

There was a small chime as he entered, but he could see no bell. It must be a charm, he figured.

“I’ll be right with you! And please do stay still, Mister Malfoy!”

Madam Malkin was an old, robust witch. She was kneeling on the ground next to a platform, pinning needles into a set of formal robes on a young man.

Harry took a closer look at him. His hair was platinum blond and slicked back, but wasn’t greasy at all. He was tall and lithe, but still clearly had some muscle definition apparent even through the billowing robes.

“Would you kindly hurry up? I have shopping to do.” She hummed under her breath as she placed the last needle.

“Done! I’ll go sew these up and have them and the others ready for you posthaste!” She slid the robes off his shoulders and took them to a back room. The man turned around, gazing at Harry.

“Ah, a fellow student, I presume. The name is Draco Malfoy. Are you getting your shopping done early as well?”

Harry nodded slightly, dumbfounded. The boy was strikingly gorgeous. He had long eyelashes that curled up beautifully. Both his jawline and cheekbones were immaculate and stone-cold. His eyes were steel and piercing. And his lips… Harry thought of what he wouldn’t give to make out with them.

“Um, yeah. Getting it done early.”

Draco chuckled.

“I see we have an eloquent talker on our hands, hm? What’s your name?”

Harry blushed slightly.

“It’s, uh… Harry. Harry Evans.”

“Harry Evans… no, I haven’t heard your name announced at the Sorting. You do attend Hogwarts, don’t you? You look to appear to be in my year.”

Harry nodded slightly.

“I, um, I’ll be starting this year. Fifth year.”

Draco nodded.

“You know, Father has heard some rumblings from the Ministry that they’ve actually managed to track down _Harry Potter_ , did you hear? Simply fascinating. What is it that your parents do?”

Harry looked down at his feet, hoping his hair could cover the bright blush warming his face.

“Well, I, um… I don’t know what my parents do, or, _did._ They died when I was young.”

Draco’s smile turned into a frown.

“My apologies. So, then, who are you staying with if I may ask? Perhaps I know them.”

Harry nodded.

“You probably do. Remus Lupin? Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts?”

Draco scowled slightly.

“I’m aware of _Professor_ Lupin. But he doesn’t have any family, does he? Why would you be…?” He seemed to ponder this issue for a moment. As Madam Malkin walked back in the room, still fiddling with a few robes similar to the one she was fitting Draco in earlier, Draco’s grey eyes lit up in recognition.

“ _Impossible._ You can’t be! You’re-” 

Harry quickly flicked his hand, casting a silencing charm around them.

“-Harry Potter! Why didn’t you say so?”

Harry shuffled his feet.

“Well, I don’t go by my father’s name, even though everyone knows me by it. I’m just trying to lie low for now. Don’t want any attention.”

Draco stared at Harry open-mouthed.

“Unbelievable! I grew up hearing stories about you. Not that Father would tell me any, mind you, but the house elves were always particularly chatty when they didn’t know I was listening.”

His eyes glanced up to Harry’s forehead, immediately becoming unfocused.

“Why… why can’t I see your scar?”

Harry chuckled, uncomfortable.

“I, uh, cast a charm on it. Notice-Me-Not. Again, don’t want undue attention.”

Draco nodded, impressed.

“That’s good spellwork. Notice-Me-Nots are sixth year material. But didn’t you grow up in the Muggle world?”

Harry nodded, a blush tinging his cheeks again.

“It’s a long story. I’m somewhat adept at using magic that I taught myself.”

Draco nodded in awe, extending his hand.

“I see. Well, Harry, how would you like to be friends? I’m sure you could use someone to show you around Hogwarts once you arrive in September.”

While Harry was completely taken with this dashing stranger, he still shook his head.

“Um, no thank you. I’m actually taking private lessons through the month until the year starts, so I think I’ll quickly learn my way around.”

Draco’s cheeks tinged pink, his expression solidifying somewhat. He drew his hand back.

“I see. No worries, then.”

With that, he turned on his heels to the counter to quickly pay for his robes with a stack of golden coins and leave.

Madam Malkin walked over to Harry.

“Now, then, dearie. What can I help you with today?”


End file.
